


The Ones We Love

by sofriel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofriel/pseuds/sofriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a flashback. Steve is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ones We Love

“Come in!”

Sam juggles the bundles of takeout in his arms to open the door to the apartment. Inside Steve and Bucky are standing in the living room, Steve helping with Bucky’s necktie. “Hey Barnes,” Sam says as he walks to the kitchen, setting the food on the counter. There’s no response, but Sam’s not bothered at all. He’s pretty sure Bucky is just concentrating on staying calm while hands tighten a strip of cloth around his neck.

“Looking good for date night,” he says.

“It’s not a date,” Bucky shoots back. 

“Who said I was talking about you?” Sam leaves the kitchen, leans on the wall of the hallway to watch the preparations. There’s a small, soft smile on Steve’s face at their exchange. 

This is the third week of Bucky’s “date nights” with Natasha. They had been Sam’s idea, to help Bucky get used to being out of the house and around someone who’s not him or Steve—someone who also happens to be intimately familiar with the effects of memory loss and assassin-related trauma and has the skills to manage anything that might come up. 

As Steve continues fiddling with the tie, Bucky’s hands come up and push at Steve’s gently, one shiny silver flashing among the pale others. For a second Sam sees different hands: his own deep brown, and two so white they turned red when you scrubbed them good. _“Man, you’re like an overgrown puppy, you know that? Can’t even tie your own damn tie, Christ.”_ The smirk on Riley’s face. That damn smirk, all the time. And then, abruptly—Riley’s face, full of terror.

The still summer air feels too hot against Sam’s skin. He slips into Steve’s bedroom, bracing himself against the wall. 

He doesn’t resent Bucky’s return. He’s not even jealous, except for the few bad nights when he’s awake until the early hours of the morning and dark thoughts start creeping in. He just has these moments once in a while, now that Bucky’s personality has started to shine through his programming and he and Steve have started to cautiously banter like they must have before Bucky’s fall. It’s great, Sam’s happy for them, but it keeps bringing back memories of the last person he had that kind of easy back-and-forth with. 

It’s not always bad. But his head is still learning how to think about Riley without going back to that last image of him. The worst part is that it’s not even real—he never saw Riley’s face as he fell, just heard his voice, half of a scream cut off into static. So his mind feels free to make up the worst possible image he can imagine, and then bring it up any time Sam pictures his face. 

His breath is coming a little too fast yet and he tries to slow it down, breathe deep. God, it’s warm. Every time he closes his eyes that image is waiting for him. 

“Sam?”

Steve appears in the door, a little crease in between his worried eyebrows. He takes a step towards Sam, hands up and moving slowly so Sam can see as he lays one gently on Sam’s shoulder. Sam turns and grabs his shirt, kissing him, hot and desperate. He pushes at him and Steve makes a surprised sound. He breaks the kiss and then pulls Sam close, kissing his forehead. His hands rub up and down Sam’s arms. 

The door to the apartment shuts loudly—not quite slammed, but loud enough that it’s obviously intended to let them know that Bucky has left. Steve chuckles breathlessly against Sam’s cheek. 

“You okay?” he asks, turning those relentlessly caring eyes on Sam’s face.

Sam’s mouth twists, attempting a smile. “I’m working on it.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve asks carefully. 

Sam closes his eyes, exhales slowly. Riley’s face is starting to fade but still visible. “More interested in you fucking me ‘til I can’t see straight.”

Steve laughs quietly, but he waits until Sam looks at him and says with a more serious look, “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Now Sam laughs, just a little, shakily. “Why you gotta be so responsible, huh? I’m talking to the guy who throws himself off buildings for fun, and you’re telling me this is a no-go?” Steve makes a face and waits. Sam sighs and relaxes into Steve’s arms. “Just. Stay here. This is good.”

“I’ve got you,” Steve murmurs into Sam’s neck, hands moving to stroke up and down his back. “Just breathe, I’ve got you.” 

They stay like that, close and wrapped around each other, until all Sam sees is Steve.


End file.
